


But You Held it In

by TomWaitsForNoMan



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: ;)))), Cute, F/M, Fluff and Angst, How Do I Tag, Makeout Session
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-26 03:50:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12050682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TomWaitsForNoMan/pseuds/TomWaitsForNoMan
Summary: When you came back from a difficult mission in Kings Row, your typical triumph and determination was lost to sudden pessimistic thoughts. You try to handle it yourself, but when McCree steps in to apologize for spilling coffee on you, you feel amazing.Immediately once he leaves, your shit fest is back. You continue to handle things yourself and you feel yourself becoming more and kore unstable.But an opportunity to completely save your team and complete a mission approaches you. And there's no doubt that you take it.But what happens when you almost get yourself killed?How was he supposed to react to that?





	But You Held it In

             

        It was dark by the time you had completed the everlasting mission in Kings Row. Your team had been preparing vigorously for it, because if you were unsuccessful, it would have been the death of thousands of omnics and humans. Which you planned to prevent. The squad had left early in the misty morning, and everyone was too anxious to be tired. So they made light of it, cracked jokes, told stories. Along with the positive thoughts of the weeks of training you all endured would surely make some sort of account to your execution. 

 

       The previously bright and beautiful city was unrecognizable. Lena's breath hitched suddenly as distant explosions came from below. Though it was almost mid-day, the sky was covered in dark blankets of cloud, making it nearly impossible to peer out the tinted windows. No matter it was, for you were determined to keep your spirits high, which you hoped to be a positive impact towards victory.

 

       There was nothing unusual about the mission itself, you supposed. You did what you always had, you did what you always would. Anything and everything could have happened, but thankfully, nothing went drastically wrong. It was quite the polar opposite, actually. Your team played with such strategy and skill, which was frankly very far above your standards and experience, that even you were mildly surprised. Everyone was ecstatic about the impressive victory. 

 

        Not you, though.

 

        Something clicked within you. You got off that ship with your typical triumph and determination, only to return with nothing but bitter emptiness. Everyone was chatting and laughing gleefully, and you recognized that as celebration. Which you were supposed to partake in. Unfortunately, to you it was nothing but noise. Unneeded, unwanted, distracting noise. Your face churned with sour confusion, and your throat burned awkwardly. Those thoughts couldn't be you. It didn't seem like it was you.

 

        A good friend of yours, Tracer, ran up to you. This victory probably meant the world to her, due to it being the safety of her home of her, her family and her lovely girlfriend. A wide grin apparent on her face made it quite clear you were correct. Something must have looked off about you because she dropped it immediately, and put a hand gently  your tendered shoulder. She glanced around and quieted her cheerful voice.    

 

        "Is something the matter, luv? You don't seem to be yourself." Her eyes burned with genuine concern, and the perplexed way her eyes dilated made you feel horribly guilty. Why would she put such a burden to check up on you, especially since she she was having such a blast? All you did was make her feel bad, you were just another person to bring her hopes down. You forced a convincing smile and shook your head delicately, bringing a hand up to support your claim.

 

       _What the hell even makes you yourself?_ You thought bitterly to yourself.

 

        "I'm fine, Lena." You assured swiftly, the tone of your voice seeming foreign to you. Words piled out as if they were enscripted in your head, as if you had practiced them for hours on end. "I'm tired, is all. All these missions we're doing really can get exhausting, you know. Also I'm pretty sore, it was such a long battle, right?" Her smile returned and she rubbed your head. You knew it was supposed to be an affectionate gesture, but it troubled you.  
       
         "I understand entirely, luv. I guess all this noise is quite a burden if you're tired." She smiled greatly and sighed in content. Her voice was called and she gave you her signature grin and saluted away. She went over to D.Va and Lúcio, and began to talk with them instead. 

 

         A burden, huh?

 

         You looked down at your hands that were folded neatly in your lap. Subconsciously, you dug your nails into your legs hard enough to leave obvious marks, and you felt yourself begin to shudder. Your throat tightened and you silently heaved for air, you released a silent whimper and tears brimmed your eyes. 

 

         But you held it in. There was no other choice.

 

         With a loud rumble, the aircraft landed safely and you nearly jumped for joy. Logic told you that once you ate, showered and slept, you'd be fine and dandy in the morning. You blinked back any remaining tears threatening to escape and quickly got off the ship. The only thing on your mind was just wanting to be back at your headquarters, safe from any pestering and conversion from people.

 

         When you got back to your personalized cabin, you locked it. Something you had never done before, and you tried to comprehend what you did. Your hand quivered over the lock and tears once again threatened you with release. 

 

         _Why does this matter?_ You reconciled to yourself, suddenly acknowledging the aching in your stomach. 

 

          An frustrated push off the door and you swiftly went over to you drawer full of snack food, mainly for when you can't eat in the mess hall after missions or. You opened it and pulled out a fun sized snickers bar. The funny commercials flashed back into your mind, bringing you back to your childhood. You attempted to smile.

 

         "Eat a snickers. You're not you when you're hungry." You mumbled bitterly, taking a haste bite, trying to smile through it. Unfortunately you failed, and let out small whimpering sobs throughout your chewing. The lump in your throat prevented you from swallowing, and you let out a frustrated cry as you threw the snickers bar back into the drawer. Your throat ached and itched from the pieces lodged in your trachea.

 

          You reminded yourself to take a deep breath, but your throat was caught on candy fragments and you coughed uncontrollably. 

 

          "Damnit..." Your voice was low and gravelly and your knees were like your mother's spaghetti. For the  first time in a very long time, everything was genuinely terrible. Through your excruciating coughing phase, you decided you needed to shower and then go to bed immediately. Whatever this was, would he gon in the moring.

 

          All you could process was the sound of your feet sliding heavily across the strangely textured carpet. Once you entered the bathroom you immediately peeled off your armor and clothing. The extra weight that had been stripped off from you felt good, yet you came to realize you smelled like a true soldier. 

 

          B.O and metallic dust.

 

         Quickly, you jumped in the shower to rid yourself of the smell of gun powder and biotic chemicals. The odor was brought to your head, and created a throbbing pain. That headache it caused only worsened your thoughts and feelings. Your eyes began to burn once again and heavy tears forced their way down your face.

 

          You couldn't do it. 

 

          You turned off the water and hesitantly stepped out. When you turned to grab your bundle of clothes, your eyes are locked on the reflection in the mirror. Why did your body look so.. Ugly? It was never like this before. You had loved yourself. Why do you feel so hideous? So disgusting? So...

 

           Alone...

  
           You quickly jumped into your clothes. The abomination you saw in the mirror only made you feel even worse. With a sob, you stumbled out of the bathroom and onto your bed. You curled your body into the pillows and released the tears you were trying to hold back.

           With a quivering breath, you muttered a hopeful statement to yourself. "It will be better tomorrow. It's just a bad night. You can do this."

           Things didn't get better.

           You woke up late to an obnoxious alarm that next morning, nonetheless feeling like you were hit by a garbage truck and you were the trash it was trying to take out. With an unhappy sigh, you threw your legs off the bed. Your feet connected to the floor and you immediately felt a stinging pain in your right one. Quickly, you lifted it to discover what did the damage. An angry groan emitted from your unusually bruised lips, it was a paper clip from all the paper work you have to do. You had removed it from your foot swiftly, and gave it a comforting rub. Your eyes quickly scanned your floor for any other threats. After you found none, you got up and went to get dressed properly.   
     
           When you walked over to your dresser for your clothes you had tripped and knocked your head against the mirror. It shattered with a painful crack and your hand shot out to catch yourself for going face first into the pieces of glass that had fallen. You had recieved a cut doing so.  
    
            Your fists clenched until they were almost pure white and gritted your teeth, your breathing became erratic and heavy. Another deep breath was took and you looked for a gauze. The bathroom had nothing, but after you screamed angrily, you eventually washed your hand to clean it. Your food drawer had nothing, as expected, and your mission supplies had just run out of them. Hell, even your medical stash had nothing. Just your luck, there was none.  
      
             So you were forced to wrap your hand in a kitchen towel which would obviously get lint stuck in it, get dressed with a badly bleeding hand and a bruising forehead, and had to report to Winston that you had broken your mirror. You stomped out of the room and looked for Mercy's treatment station.

          Other agents had stopped to greet you, but none noticed the red tinted towel wrapped around your hand. Which you supposed was a good thing at the moment. You passed the mess hall, and your stomach rumbled as an alerter of your current hunger. You paused momentarily, but quickly shook your head. There's no way you could eat with a bleeding and hazardous hand without rousing attention and giving an awkward explanation. You could also get sick from eating something with your blood on it. THAT would be embarrassing. So that's a no. At least until your hand is fixed properly.

           You continued your monotonous way to the Medical Center. Thank god everyone was going the opposite way of you. It was breakfast time, though, which unfortunately you'd probably miss. A gasp escaped and you let out a smile when you saw the healing sign in front of you, you sped up your walking. You were in front of the door with a huge grin on your face, Mercy would definitely make you feel a lot better. Your smile dropped quickly and was replaced with a desperate grunt.  
     
           Surprise.

           Surprise.

           She wasn't there. And the door was locked.

           You growled in unbearable frustration, tears once again began to make their way back to your eyes. Your fist raised and you were about to pound on the door angrily.

           But you held it in. There was no other choice.  
   
           Something made you halt briskly, and had you remind yourself you were in the open. You sighed heavily, if anything else happened you would probably lose yourself. You needed to go back...

          You needed to leave NOW.

          But you stood there for a minute longer breathing in and out trying to compose yourself. Then you rushed down the corridor back to your cabin.  
    
            "It's gonna be okay, Y/n." You had muttered incoherently to yourself, tears brimming your eyes. "It's just bad luck. It won't last. It never does at least." You were about to pass the mess hall. The same problems from before played in your mind so you didn't stop.

            As you were passing nonchalantly, the door slammed open and out walked the infamous McCree.

            McCree was a friend of yours. At least you thought he was, considered him one. You two had talked pretty often, especially on missions. So you were quite familiar with him and his morales. He was a good person to hang with. You knew that for sure. It was nice knowing you could rely on him during missions. Unfortunately yesterday he couldn't go on the mission because he was too recognizable there.  
    
            When he told you that you laughed, but couldn't help but feel nervous. You trusted everyone who was with you, but it just seemed he would he be the most reliable person for you. You promised him you'd tell him how the mission went during dinner time. That kade you mentally face palm, you had forgotten completely about that. Now here he was walking right toward you.

            With a cup of coffee in his hand.

            Straight into you.

            Since he was almost 200 pounds of pure muscle and badass armor, he easily overpowered you. So you were suddenly knocked down onto your butt, along with a bunch of- thankfully not boiling- hot coffee dropped on you.  
     
            You knew it was an accident, and by the look of his face he was really sorry, too. It hurt though. It hurt so much. The burning coffee was thankfully not on your face, but on you torso and on your hand. It soaked through the towel and your hand felt like it was being violently stabbed by 1000 degree daggers. You suppressed a pain stricken scream and shakily stood up.  
   
     "Oh god, I didn't see ya there." He sighed and rubbed his beard anxiously. "You okay? The coffee was pretty hot. I can ask Mercy to take a look at'chya. Gah, I'm real sorry, Y/n." He reached out to touch your shoulder. That made you feel worse. It just was another reminder to you of how he calls every woman darlin' except you. You knew it was selfish to think of it like that, but you wanted his attention and praise too. Your mouth was dry and was filled with a metallic taste, you exhaled and embarrassment took over. Your face reddened and tears brimmed your eyes.

     But you held it in. There was no other choice.  
   
     "I'm fine, M-Mcree." Your lip quivered with an unreal smile, but you doubt he saw through it. He could be as naive as a child sometimes. His concerned face transformed into a relieved one. You sensed he was about to question you further, so you swiftly cut him off. "I swear I'm fine. I just need to shower. I'm a bit shooken up too."

     "Do y'need me to walk ya?" He offered graciously, extending his hand. You shook your head quickly, making it harder to hold back tears. He slowly let his hand down and narrowed his eyes. They burnt holes into you, and it had made you feel so... Exposed.  
   
      "I got it, McCree." You denied a bit harsher, your eyes darted at an exiting opportunity. "Please excuse me." You had mumbled with half an ass to give. With that said, you drove yourself down the halls to your room faster than you meant to. Your brain mentally cursed you for leaving him in the dust like that. He probably felt horribly guilty, and that made your insides churn.    

      You had finally made it to your headquarters and nearly fell in when you opened your door. The impact of your trip did something to your knee, and you screamed in agony as it twisted in an awkward position. The door had  slammed down heavily behind you, and you let a weighted sob. The coffee soaked clothes you were wearing were starting to dry and you had to peel all it off, it was very difficult due to it sticking aggressively to your sensitive skin.

        Suddenly, you felt excruciating pain in your hand, you examined it briefly and realized it was beginning to turn blue and red, leaving you no choice but to quickly run to the shower. The knobs were unnecessarily stubborn as they struggled to turn as quick as you needed them to. Finally, the water poured out graciously, the repeated pitter pattering made your stomach clench in nostalgia. At that moment, it was almost as beautiful as you recalled seeing Niagara Falls for the first time- before the omnics left it in utter ruin.

        One foot in and the water was already like the coffee that was spilled all over you. When you got in entirely, you lifted your hand to disinfect it again, you let out strained cry. The throbbing pain you felt caused you to wheeze continuously, to th point when you nearly passed out.

        The pain ceased after a seriously close call, and you logically decided to get out before it did happen. Your dripping figure stepped out of the shower into the steamy and humid room. All your brought with you was some undergarments, so you slipped into them carefully, making sure you didn't injure your hand any more than you had. You examine yourself and called it good.

       Once you exited the bathroom, you put on sweatpants and an over sized t-shirt, flopped onto the bed and grasped one of your pillows, jerking it to cover your face. Your face quenched and you let out a frustrated wail, one you had been holding back for quite a while. All the thoughts and mishaps that have plagued the way you felt, infected you mind with unwanted 'facts', which only made your screams louder. 

   

              McCree felt horrible.

    

     Once you ran away, he was left with a pile of sticky coffee to clean and fuel to his burning guilt. Of course, Tracer cleaned it up before he could deny her. He felt he needed to make it up to you, since you probably didn't eat before the accident or during the mission. It was lunch time, and it was the perfect opportunity to feed you properly. So there he was, standing outside of your cabin. Holding a bunch of food. Sweating nervously.  
   
      He lifted his metal hand and knocked on your door. Since the rooms were mostly sound proof, he only heard a barely audible thud. There was a noise that signaled that you were listening and were about to speak.

      "Hello?" Your voice croaked helplessly through the microphone. That made his heart ache guiltily. Did he really cause you to feel this bad? He placed his finger on the microphone button.

      "Howdy there, Y/n. It's high noon if you didn't know." Jesse greeted assertively and tinged with humor, yet still sweating out of pure anxiety. "I wanted to apologize again for what happened today." He swore he heard a sniffle.

      "It's f-fine, dude. There's n-no need to apologize." You let go of the microphone to compose yourself, you were about to tear up again.

      But you held it in. There was no other choice.

      When you felt better, you pressed it again. "It was my fault, I'm the one who's s-sorry..." He nearly dropped the food when he heard that. His concern was replaced with anger. Not towards you, however. Strictly towards himself.

       "I reckon it ain't fine, missy." He growled, his voice dropped a few octaves. He obviously sounded annoyed with your ridiculous claim. "It ain't your fault and you damn well know that." The way his voice sounded as he smoothly spoke had brought unusual heat to your face, but made you feel small and weak at the same time. You heard him release a breathy groan. "I've got food 'ere for us. If you want me to come eat with ya, I'm gonna need to be let in." 

        Your face was on fire, and your mind was racing. You stumbled to press the button. "Y-yeah, okay. L-let me just get dressed real quick." Part of you was terribly flustered, and didn't want him to come in due to the lingering fear of ruining your relationship. The other sinful part of you wanted to undress yourself completely bare, and just let him have you for lunch.

        Filled with inappropriate embarrassment, you made your way to the bathroom and quickly washed your face to rid any evidence of your previous breakdowns. You put on a fleece hoodie to conceal your body from his typically not so subtle eyes and keep yourself warm. As you slid your hand through the sleeve, you realized that your it would still be a hazardous problem. With a hesitant groan, you shrugged it off irresponsibly. Then went to open the metal door. One deep, calming breath, then you pressed the button. The door slammed open and there he stood, with a bag of fast food of course.

       "Howdy!" He grinned light-heartedly, making your face burst with florescent crimson. Thankfully, he most likely couldn't see it because it was dark in your room. You motioned him in, with a sweeping wave. His studs clincked as he stepped inside and looked around cautiously, something everyone would typically do. You sheepishly walked over near him and turned on the light. It exploded the room with brightness and unusual tranquility. Still, you heavily flinched from the sudden brightness.

       He seemed to be staring at something intently. You gazed in that direction and your face dropped in horror.  He was looking at your mirror. Your shattered mirror, to be exact. The only thought comprehensive to you was 'oh shit'. He looked down at you, concentration evident in his eyes. His eyes trail down to you hand, and his expression drops quickly.

       "Why didn't ya get this fixed?" He quickly grabbed your hand and examined it for infection symptoms, turning it over and finding all angles. He sighs in relief when he found none. If your face wasn't read before, it sure was now. He lifts his human hand up to your forehead to check for a fever, your face became even hotter. He pulls out a small hydrogen peroxide bottle and looks you in the eyes. "Missy, you might need to sit down for this."

        He pulls you over to you bed and your legs nearly collapse from beneath you. So you practically had no choice but to sit down. His fingers opened your painfully clenched hand all the way and looks you dead in the eye. Then he pours it on to your cut. You let out a pain ridden scream. For some reason it hurt more than it normally would. McCree cleaned out the dried lint and dirt from it and wrapped it up in gauze. He goes to the bathroom to wash his hands, then came back with the food.

        "Now, I ain't gonna ask you what happened right now, seeing as you probably don't wanna talk about it." He sat down beside you, pulled out a burger and took a bite. "But I expect an explanation one day." With that, he handed you a burger from the bag. You took it hesitantly and unwrapped it. He chuckled as you smiled lightly.

       "You remembered?" You asked as you took a small bite, not wanting to eat like a slob as you usually do.  He guffawed with his mouth full, clearly not caring about it like you.

       "Course I did, missy." He swallowed and turned to you with a smile. It almost melted your heart. "I can't show up and surprise ya with somethin' you don't even like."

       "I appreciate it, Jesse." You bit out of the juicy burger once again, this time feeling a bit more relaxed. "You have no idea what this means to me."

       "Well I'm glad you like it!" His smile widened greatly, and you swore your heart had actually melted this time. Things began to feel better, and you felt yourself becoming happier then earlier today.  The fact he came to comfort you, despite not knowing even half of your problems, made you feel like you were special to him. A grin escaped from your greasy lips.

       The two of you turned your gazes back to your food, you awkwardly tried to think of something nice to say. McCree, on the other hand, seemed overall comfortable with the silence in your presence. Silence and all. So, you decided to stay silent, out of respect for him. You took another bite, and the silence was peaceful for 5 minutes.

       "Well, missy." He blurted out suddenly as you took the last bite of your burger, you turned to his direction and realized he was finished as well. "There's fries in here if you want 'em, or we could share 'em if that's what you wanted." That earned him a knowing look from you, and you reached into the bag and shoved some fries into his mouth, which he gladly accepted.

        "You have a weird way of asking for things, cowboy." You grinned smugly as his cheeks tinted crimson. He swallowed what he had, and you squealed when he licked your hand. His victorious smile was contagious as he reached into the bag for more fries. With an eyeroll, you wiped your hand off on his leg and slugged him in the gut with the other. "You're a cowboy who plays dirty, I must say."

         "Yup. And that's how it's gonna be for mighty fine while." He smirked while digging even more into the bag. When you noticed, you screeched and slapped his hand away swiftly, snatching the bag obsessively from his grasps. "Jesus, learn to share! Or I might just have to spit in this bag to mark my territory."

          "For one, doll, my name ain't Jesus." He held in laughter as you glared daggers at him, completely missing his nickname. "And for seconds, I'd still eat it."

          "You can't be serious. Why in gods name would you eat it? I could have ebola for all you know!" You gawked obviously, not knowing whether to laugh or feel flattered at his statement.

          "I don't care if you got ebola." He scoffed playfully, earning you better glimpse of the substance. "If you had ebola when you spat in it, then you woulda had it all over the stuff in here. Meaning I already would have it. So I might as well make my ebola experience tasteful."

           "Jesse, spit tastes nasty." You jeered, imagining the taste of spit on a french fry. The image placed your head caused you to put down the bag. He shrugged and took it gleefully, turning his head to face towards you entirely. "Only if you were related to that person would it be accepta-" 

           You paused abruptly, sinking your eyes skillfully onto the substance on his beautiful beard. He noticed your sudden pause and was disheveled by it.

           "Uh, missy? You were sayin' somethin' I believe." He smiled and booped your nose. It didn't phase you though, and your shoulders tensed. That alarmed him. "What's the matter, sweetpea?"

           "Stay still, cowboy." Your eyes narrowed, plagued with concentration and focus. He fidgeted nervously as you leaned in. A thumb popped up and you effortlessly swiped at the stuff he had in his beard. He stared at you as you licked what you realized was the burger sauce off your finger.

            "Uh."

            "You had sauce on your beard, you dingus." You chuckled light-heartedly. His staring continued for a couple of more seconds, but then shook his head graciously.

            "Well, you used the hand I licked, so now ya might have ebola, unfortunately." He laughed, obviously flustered but still being a good sport.  Judging by your rearction, which was staring intensely at your hand, he figured he was fine. He glanced up at the clock and sighed in disappointment. "Well, missy, it's time for me to head out. I gotta clean up the cafeteria 'cause trash mouse thought it'd be a great idea to put the blame on me for one of his bombs."

            "Oh. That's fine, Jesse." You grinned half-heartedly, trying not to show your immense disappointment to him. "Thank you so much, cowboy. You really made my day better." He stood up smoothly and ruffled your hair, messing it up a bit more. Yet you didn't mind.

            "This was fun." He called as he walked towards the door. He turned his head towards you for a brief moment and smiled. "We should do it again sometime." With that he was off, and you were blushing ferociously. There were so many things you wanted to say, so many things you wanted to do. You silently cursed at Junkrat as you collapsed heavily onto your bed. With a slight smile you began drifting off, figuring your bad luck streak was over. Now maybe you could finally rest a bit...

           You were so wrong.

           The next two weeks were the equivalent to hell, if not worse. You had dropped a smoothie all over yourself the next morning and completely ruined the electrical equipment you were carrying. It had also gotten all over your hand which caused you to curse over dramatically loudly, earning confused glares from a few people. The smoothie had soiled your favorite training shirt and you were to forced to wash it in the machine, being a very risky move since if it wasn't washed right, it could suffer from serious discoloration. 

            Your shirt didn't change colors. Instead, it shrunk. It had shrunk three sizes, and you couldn't wear it without feeling as if Roadhog was squishing your shoulders together with his hook. It also smelt foul of laundry detergent, meaning you'd have to fiercely hand wash it if you even wanted to wear it as a night shirt or something.

            Explaining the broken mirror to Winston was not only embarrassing, it was pointless. Winston had told you there was a button that restored the broken glass to its natural place. So you had walked out red faced and in a bad mood. The shitty part was when you pressed the button, the small shards of glass that were in your hand ripped out of it and bled all over again.

  
            During your personal training session, you had pulled a muscle in your arm, preventing you from carrying your weapon without the feel of your arm being torn apart. Angela had given you pills to heal it, but you were afraid you wouldn't be healed in time for your next mission.

 

           That fear was unfortunately all too plausible.

 

            This mission took place in Hollywood, the place where you typically had the best luck. Luck seemed to be in your teams favor today, and things went a lot smoother than you expected them to. Your team managed to successfully escort the playload, and since McCree was with you, you got to take it easy. 

  
       Unfortunately, right as the payload was almost at its destination, the enemy threatened your chance of victory with camping on the objective, which was not something you were willing to deal with that day. There was a sniper taking out your teammates and a Bastion mowing down everyone, which you had planned to stop one way or another. 

     Mei was making her way back from the spawn point and you motioned her over. She quickly waddled over to you with a curious look on her face. The two of you were hidden and it made it easier to explain things to her. Despite the continuous gun shots blazing meters away.

    “Hello, Y/n!” She said with a bright smile, rocking her feet anxiously. “Is there something you need?”

    “Yeah! I have a plan, Mei. This could change the game! We could save the payload and our teammates, and I could really use your help.” You grinned hopefully, grasping your hands together as if begging. She gushed and her smile widened even more.

    “I'd love to help! What is the plan?” She nearly jumped in excitement. The relief that had washed over your face made her even happier. So you quickly told her your genuis idea, and she agreed full heartedly. The only problem was the execution. In order for it to work, you'd need the other team to be distracted.

            _**60 Seconds Remaining**_

       You were running out of time Nobody was there to distract them and things were looking grim. They were wandering around and chatting aimlessly, so you had no choice and took the opportunity to take three shots at a lamp post.

             **BANG**

**BANG**

             BANG

       Those shots rang in your ears as you heard armor and other loose gear rattle towards your target. Mei gazed at you and nodded, then ran out with you swiftly. Your footsteps weren't heard until you jumped onto a car hood, heads snapped your direction and you quickly pulled your partner up with you.

       “Watch this!” Mei called out her infamous line as she froze a 10 foot wall, bringing both you and her up with her. Their heads snapped toward the two of you, and you quickly jump onto the roof. Mei quickly enraptured herself in ice to heal and block off others view from you, and you jumped the sniper quickly. Not before a loud shot rang out and you were struck in the stomach harshly.

              ELIMINATED WIDOWMAKER

       Your team made it back and was moving the payload, and you grinned triumphantly for the first time in a while. Then all of a sudden, you heard Bastion's ultimate initiate. Apparently so had Mei, because she quickly built her wall to block out the one shot one kill missiles. That forced him to find another target, which unfortunately was you.

         The infamous explosion in your direction brought your team's eyes immediately to you. Fortunately you had dodged the deadly shot, but were still caught dangerously in the crossfire. There was only one way out, and that was to kill the Bastion. McCree had finally spotted you, and the only emotion clearly evident on his face was pure panic, which you forced yourself to ignore.

      You had jumped off of the building to a blind spot of his and attacked him from the back ferociously. He swiftly tried to turn around, but to no avail, he made four final beeps of panic as he imploded, leaving you out in the clear open as the ice wall went down. Junkrat, who was on the opposing side, shot out his deadly bombs towards you. You didn't hear them drop near you, you were too excited about the payload being at its destination. The environment flashed white, concluding your mission with a victory.

       Everything typically slowed down, but you noticed arms wrap around you and pressure being put on your body. Your vision went black and you were suddenly on the hard ground, knocked out with no explanation.

               He was mad.

       Angela had told you that much. She didn't tell you why exactly, but she told you he was fuming. Junkrat was in the room with you too, but he was not in as of a good condition as you. His nose was red and wrapped as if it were broken, which it probably was. His cheek was puffed and inflamed, and his eye was bulging and purple. That was only just his face, too. 

 

      "Y/n. I'm just going to warn you, dear." She flipped her hair out of her face, and looked at you seriously. You were ready to leave the infirmary, and she seemed really concerned about it. "He is really angry. And I mean, REALLY, angry. I recommend you stay away from him until he cools down. Don't let anyone tell him you're out of here. I don't want anything to happen to you, okay?"

 

    "Why is he so angry? Why is Junkrat thoroughly fucked up? Why can't I talk to him?" You rambled trying to put puzzle pieces together. Junkrat sat up with crazed giggle.

 

     "Oi, sheila." He grunted with large, crazy, off centered grin. "I just about killed ya the end of the game. But McCree tackled yah and saved you from being barbecue. When he saw you weren't conscious, he proceeded to beat me until Mei froze him. It was malarkey I tell ya."

 

     "What... Why would he...." You trailed off quietly, finally understanding what he was saying. Mercy put her hand on your shoulder comfortably.

 

    "Why dontcha go talk to the mate, sheila?" He smirked suggestively, tapping his fingers patiently. You opened your mouth to apologize, and Angela to protest. "There's no problem with me and you. I did what my job was, and so did you. Got the crap beat outta me, ya got injured. Don't ya worry, sheila." Mercy sighed heavily, shaking her head in disapproval.

 

      "If you do speak with him, just be careful, dear." She squeezed you shoulder encouragingly. "Remember, if he does anything to you... He'll die a slow and very painful death, okay?" 

 

      "Heh, I'll second that." He grinned his typical crazy smile.

 

      "Thank you, guys." You grinned brightly, glad that people had your back. There was no way you'd need them with McCree, though. You turned to leave and waved goodbye. He probably was just worried about you, as a friend typically would be. It was nothing more than friendship, you repeatedly told yourself.  
   
      Down the halls you went, looking for one who you considered one of your closest friends. He wasn't in the mess hall getting crazy drunk, which was probably a good thing. Talking to a very angry and drunk McCree would equal pure disaster. The training room would be the next best option, but also very dangerous and risky. 

 

      You silently peeked into the room, and no surprise that he was there. Angela wasn't joking when she said he was really angry. His posture, his erratic movement, his heavy breathing, that wasn't anger. Hell, even furious was an understatement. He looked ready to rip out someone's teeth, make a weapon out of it, repeatedly stab that person in the face, and the sell their corpse to a necrophilac who has a sex cult.

  
      That made you rethink your decision to talk to him immediately. As you were backing out of his near vicinity, there was a screeching creak in the floor boards you were on. His head shot your direction and you barely managed to duck in time. The gunshot from Widowmaker rubbed up painfully against your leg, and you let out a silent groan.

      A loud cough emitted itself from in in front of you, and you toppled over due to the sudden anxiety rush. He picked you up off the ground and set you down surprisingly gently, but his hands still shook from anger. His eyes were narrowed and his lip twitched occasionally. You both stood in tensed silence.

     “What the hell was that?” He harshly growled, voice dangerously low and monotone. “Why the fuck did you decide to pull some shit as stupid as that?”

     “Look I'm sorry, Jesse. But-”

     “Being ‘sorry’ doesn't matter, missy.” He raised his voice substantially, his face became more strained. His typically soft voice was gone along with your beloved nickname. “What do you think could'a happened if that spider bitch aimed a few inches up, huh?”

     “I would have respawned and tried a different plan.” You stuttered nervously, there was a lump growing bigger and bigger in your throat. “Mei is fine right? No important people were lost or harmed!”

     “You were harmed. And if I didn't save you, you could'a been killed permanently!” He exhaled terrifyingly heavy, clenching his fists tight eniugh to turn his knuckles white. “What would that have done for us, huh?”

      “Victory.” You half-assed threw you fist in the air as a cheer, but struggled to smile at it as the look in his eyes became dark. “A-and you didn't need to beat trash mouse up, he was just doing his job.”

      “Why do I even try with you.” He spat venomously whilst turning his head away from you, making you flinch backwards. “Why can't ya just say you'll be more careful. Not even a proper apology. This is why I can't trust ya alone on missions.” 

       “You don't need to trust me! I don't need to apologize! I am my own person, and I know what I'm doing!” You desperately denied, your voice shook in sorrow. “Why do you even care?”

       “That's somethin’ I'm startin’ to question myself, darlin’.” He said coldy, shoving his way past you harshly, not even giving you a chance to respond. Leaving you emptier than the training room you were located in, only a few seconds away from crying.

      Isn't that what you’d always wish for? To be called darlin’ like everyone else? When he had called you that, it felt like he was taking your closeness and ripping into bits. He had thought you were special to him, hadn't he? The only reason he called you missy is because he cared, didn't he? Had you completely fucked up your relationship with your cowboy? Tears built up in your eyes, threatening very dangerously to release.

     But you held it in. There was no other choice. Other than the fact you had to. There was no way you'd break down where people could see you. Where people could judge you. Back to the comfort of your room you went, back to the mishaps that were plaguing your life. Once you returned to your room, unfortunately, you'd have to face them alone.

     The halls seemed too empty for you, especially since it was the afternoon, when most would be running errands for their superiors or running laps around the building. A logical answer would be that McCree had probably scared most of them off. No one was there to stop you and ask why your face was horribly strained and flushed, so that was a plus.

     Before you even realized it, you were sitting on your bed. You were doing nothing, though. Not even your crying happened, just sitting and staring off into nothingness. That's how you stayed, too. That's how you stayed all day.

      It was almost midnight, and you hadn't eaten since before the mission, which was 2 days ago. But you couldn't work up the strength to do anything, not even to stand or eat a candy bar. Nonetheless the courage to face anyone. It was past your curfew, you were notorious for staying up too late working or reading, so Soldier 76 decided to set it so you wouldn't be tired every morning. Still, it wasn't like you could do much, anyways.

      He didn't trust you... Obviously he had cared for you, but you had shoved aside all his feelings in order to fulfill your goals. "It's my body. My life. How was I supposed to know he felt that way?" Your eyes welt with hot tears as you attempted to deny your beliefs. "You know what, maybe he doesn't, and you're just being an idiot like you usually are."

       Back and forth, your conscious and your emotions clashed dramatically, fierce with raw confusion. Unbeknownst to you, your breathing became faster and uncontrolled, and the threat of tears escaping your eyes became dangerous. You didn't know what was happening. Every part of your emotionally corrupted body seemed to have a mind of its own, as you couldn't stop anything they were doing.

      Gently, you wrapped your arms around yourself, covering your body with the soft duvet. With that, your attempts to stand were pathetic, as your horribly shaking knees made it nearly impossible for you to raise yourself from the creaky bed without buckling like a newborn horse. The moment you did was miraculous, and step by step, you floundered towards the exit of your room. You leaned on the wall to save yourself from stumbling, and aimed to open your confined prison. But you stopped, and your hand hovered over the _open_ button steadily. One could probably hear a pin drop from down the abandoned corridor, and you opening your door would surely rouse people from their precious slumber.

     Something in your mind clicked, and all your thoughts traced back to McCree. He had done so much for you, had always had your back. Was all of it gone? Was it too late for you to apologize, to make amends with your cowboy? Closer and closer, your hand was ghosting the button now.

     Having to explain yourself to him, telling him you were unhappy -hell even crying openly in front of him, and telling him you loved him... Would that all really be worth it? Worth the trouble? Worth the noise?

               ......

               Fuck. Yes.

      For the first time in almost three weeks, you were positive on what you wanted. You were going to confront him. No tears, just assertive and affectionate apologies. After all the shitty weeks you had endured, it was clear what was missing. It was clear what you wanted.

                It was him.

         Mind-set on one thing -and one thing only, you slammed your finger onto the button and quickly dashed to his room. Your feet, thankfully, quieted their thumps independently. The blanket around your shoulders seemed to do nothing but encourage you greatly, as you neared his headquarters.

         His name plate for his room was almost as shiny as his _BAMF_ belt. As quickly as you left, you halted. Your mind plagued with uncertain confidence, and without thinking you pressed his room bell. Almost immediately after you froze, realizing you hadn't truly thought of what to say or do. Panic rapidly took over as you heard heavy thumps emit from inside of his room.

       _This was a horrible idea._ You thought pessimistically to yourself, tears built heavily in your tired eyes. It was too late to run away, so you'd just have to deal with the consequences. _He's just going to hate me even more._

       The door quietly opened, revealing a shirtless, exhausted and clearly annoyed McCree. His eyes darted to yours immediately, and stared straight into your soul. The dangerous and hollow expression he gave you made your eyes widen in panic, and you tried to speak out an explanation for yourself, but to no avail. Your mouth was barren, and your throat barely allowed you to breath. And the look on his face had severely transformed as soon as your features had churned into sheer terror.

        "I'm sorry..." You croaked out desperately, warm fat tears finally released from your eyes. Swiftly, you embraced him, burying your face into his broad chest trying to hide that fact. "I'm s-so s-sorry." Your voice had shook violently, along with your entire body that is. He wrapped his arms around your quivering figure and gently pulled you inside. The door closed just as gently as it opened, and he sat down against it, bringing you down with him.

         "I-I'm s-sorry, s-so sorry." You sobbed, clawing at his back for pitying comfort. This was all it was, right? He had your legs wrapped around his hips, and had his hands on your waist and rubbing your back soothingly. His grip on you tightened and you were about to apologize once again. "I'm s-"

         "No, sweatpea." He interjected almost angrily. "It's all my fault, I'm the one who's sorry. I shouldn't have freaked out on ya like that." His face lowered into your neck affectionately. "You're a grown ass woman and I treated you as a child. I didn't know I'd make ya feel so... so horrible. I'm so sorry, sweetheart..."

          You let out a grotesque cry, almost unsure of what to do otherwise. He hesitantly wrapped his hands around your waist, and brought you closer. With a little burst of courage you pulled away from his chest slowly, and looked up at him. The look in his eyes arrayed from guilt to.... love...? With what little effort you had left, you grabbed his face and brought to yours, kissing him passionately.

           Things seemed to stop completely as your brain processed your sudden action. His eyes went wide and unreadable, making you fear you completely misread his intentions. Your released his warm cheeks and begin to pull back, filled with raw melancholy.

            "I'm sorry..." You whispered, barely able to comprehend what you said yourself as you had shifted to get off him. His large human hand held your waist firmly in place, though, preventing you from leaving. He swung his prosthetic behind your head and had forced you forward into a slightly more heated kiss. All the built up tension in your chest had left miraculously fast and you returned your hands to their previous position.

            "Doll, you have no idea how long I'd been waitin' fer ya to do that." He growled slightly, resting his head on top of yours. You nuzzled into the nape of his neck, breathing him in subtly. "If you couldn't tell, I busted a bolt cuz' I didn't wanna see ya hurt. It would'a killed me."

             "I'm sorry I made you hurt, Jesse..." You released a whisped sigh as he pecked your forehead graciously.  
    
             "It's quite alright, sweetness." He chuckled light-heartedly, stroking your sides affectionately. "And 'sides, now that I gotta justified reason to flip psychotically when you get hurt, don't expect me to go easy on ya. Or anyone who hurts ya."  

              "You still need to apologize to Trashmouse, hun." You yawned into his hairy chest, and he let out a guffaw.

              "I'm sorry, pumpkin." He laughed unapologetically, lifting you up effortlessly and walking over to the soft bed. "If he messes with mah' baby, he ain't gonna be able to produce none no more. You dig it, sweetpea?"

              "I get it, cowboy." You snuggled in his warm loving arms as he fell on to the matress. He pulled you closer and you decided to end the conversation. "We'll talk more in the morning, Jess, alright?"

              "Anythin' for you, my honey bear." He smirked suggestively against your neck, and you pinched his man chest. He flinched and let out a small squeak, making you giggle profoundly. He let out a content giggled sigh and held you against his firm chest tighter. "Night, darlin."

              "Goodnight, Jessie J..." You mumbled quietly, hearing his deep chuckle as you slowly drifted off into calm, peaceful sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading this!! This was my first story on AO3 and I really hope you like it! Check me out on Wattpad for all my oneshots in one place. 
> 
> My username is RAMIES.
> 
> If you have requests hmu on here or tumblr. 
> 
> skyhighbomber is my username


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